


The Wrong End of the Stick

by DixieDale



Category: Garrison's Gorillas, The Persuaders
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-11
Updated: 2018-05-11
Packaged: 2019-05-05 13:13:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,398
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14619285
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DixieDale/pseuds/DixieDale
Summary: When Judge Fulton sends Bret and Danny on a mission, it actually looks like a simple, even reasonable one for a change.  Oh, well.       The characters don't belong to me, of course, I make no money from telling their stories, only appreciate the opportunity to do so.





	The Wrong End of the Stick

It seemed more straightforward than many of the things Judge Fulton got them involved in; this time he at least gave them the reason up front, not letting them find out after the bullets started flying. It was even a reason that made sense, seemed the right thing to get involved in. "Those children are at risk; they are the link to a vital piece of information and there are those who will stop at nothing to obtain that information. They must be brought here to safety."

Lord Sinclair raised an elegant eyebrow, "and their parents?" Judge Fulton got that look on his face, the one that said he was contemplating having a teary pout, or maybe contemplating his latest bout of constipation, "at the moment the parents are not in a position to protect them; that is why it is urgent that we step in, now, at once." The older man handed over a slip of paper, and two photographs, "here, they are attending special classes at this location. The girl's name is Molly; the boy is Charles. You have a very narrow window to pull this off. The instructors and the personell are not going to let you just walk off with them, certainly, but," and the Judge peered down through his glasses and referred to notes in front of him, "according to my information, they have an excursion planned to a museum this afternoon. You'll find the details on that paper. You and Danny must separate them from the others and get them safely away; bring them here."

Danny Wilde lowered his long eyelashes over those smoky blue eyes, looked at the photographs of the two children, frowned and repeated the question Bret had asked earlier, "and their parents?" Judge Fulton got a tight look to his mouth, "you bring them here; I'll notify their parents immediately so they can join them, of course. Now, gentlemen, let's get on with it."

They left the imposing residence, Bret Sinclair wondering a little at the silence coming from the smaller man tripping along at his side, hand tucked into the curve of the taller man's arm. Bret really wished he'd stop doing that, but the American had no sense of boundaries, and the British Lord had given up hope of ever establishing a sense of that in the twinkling eye'd man who'd become his partner in the Judge's eccentric endeavors. He waited for the words to come; silence, after all, was not Danny Wilde's long suit, reminding Bret a little of the stories of Lady Jersey, known as 'Silence' in true ironic fashion.

Finally, "snatching kids. Wouldn't you say that's a little out of our league, your lordship?"

"Now, Daniel," Sinclair explained with weary patience, "we are not 'snatching' them, we are merely escorting them to safety."

That got him a rather skeptical look, "yeah, if the Judge is leveling with us; you know, that'd kinda be a novelty."

Sinclair frowned heavily, "I hardly imagine the Judge has anything nefarious in mind; he may be rather an eccentric, and rather obsessed with righting old wrongs, and, yes, I admit he is frequently less than forthcoming, but he is hardly likely to target children for any reason."

Danny Wilde gave him that look again, "well, I hope you're right; I imagine the sentence for kidnapping is pretty stiff when you're dealing with minors!"

"Yes, well, it is 'pretty stiff' no matter the age, of course. Still, I hardly think we need to worry about that. I imagine the parents will be most grateful."

"I'll 'ave their ruddy guts for garters!" came as a deep snarl from the small blond man in the back seat of the car as he braced himself for the next curve.

"Here, Goniff. Best use these or you'll be heaving your guts over their garters, the way Casino is driving!" Meghada told him, handing over one of those little cheesecloth bundles of herbs that helped him control his still twitchy stomach. As for her stomach, it wasn't twitchy but burning with rage. How dare someone try to steal away their children??! The shock warnings she'd gotten to her system when she heard from the school earlier had led her to quickly locate and bring in the members of the family in the area; the phone call from this man, this Judge Fulton, had caused them to put a plan into action, and now this mad chase up to London. There were others who were further scattered, could have come in from other directions, but their car would get there first; the others would watch, be aware and head in if this didn't go well. "Sweet Mother help them if . . ."

"Easy, Meghada," Craig Garrison cautioned her, though he was scarcely less angry. "We have to stay calm, see what the game is. Then . . ."

Casino drawled, voice tight and harsh, "then we grab the kids and really put the hurt on these creeps, yeah??!"

Garrison nodded, "Yeah, Casino, that's the plan."

"Alright then, as long as we're agreed."

Lord Bret Sinclair was white with anger, Danny Wilde red-faced with the same. "So we are to be armed and ready? We are expecting a highly dangerous and even more furious family to be arriving momentarily, is that what you are telling us? That you lied to us? The children were in no danger, you merely wanted a hold over their parents to get them to come to terms with you? You had us kidnap two children??! Are you totally insane??!"

Judge Fulton was doing his usual practiced 'slightly hurt, sadly misunderstood, only meaning things for the best' impression, but this time it seemed no one was buying it. The youngsters were on a small sofa, one in each corner, coolly watching the bickering. M'Lynn eased herself to her feet and, still listening to the argument, headed over to where the decanters and glasses stood, removing the various stoppers and sniffing til she came to the bourbon. Pouring a dram into each of two glasses she made her way back to where her brother was now perched on one arm of the sofa, watching the action as if it were a table tennis match. She handed one glass over, getting a distracted nod in thanks, and settled herself back into the corner.

Danny had seen that out of the corner of his eye, now turned to watch incredulously as the two eleven-year-olds judiciously sipped the amber liquor. "Hey, I don't think . . ." but his eyes widened as they just looked at him curiously, not coughing, not gasping, just calmly sipping the aged bourbon.

The boy licked his lips, in appreciation obviously, "they're not going to be 'appy with you, you know," he told the American quite calmly, ignoring the other two men who were continuing their 'discussion'. "Actually, gonna be right pissed more n like. 'Ope you 'ave a good explanation," and the girl snorted before adding, "and you'd best hope they give you time to give your good explanation."

Danny Wilde agreed with them wholeheartedly, and turned to scowl at the pouting Judge, seated at his desk. "Yeah, me too! Tell you, Judge, I'm with his dukeship here; you've totally lost it!"

The curls at the nape of his neck twitched, and he felt the eyes on him; he turned toward the sofa again. The girl was looking at him, long and searching, and Danny wondered what she was seeing. He almost wanted to look behind him; it seemed she was looking so deeply as to see that far. Then she nodded, satisfied with what she saw, "so, he lied to you. What else did he tell you?"

"Yes, I'd be interested in that myself," came crisply from a tall blond man standing on the gallery encircling the room one story up.

"Most interested," a woman's voice agreed, coming from the library doorway.

"Yeah, like they said," a rough voiced man snorted from the opening French doors. "'ad to've been ruddy good to get you to snatch two kids like that. Figure that's worth a 'ell of a long time in the slam," the small rather vicious looking blond man snarled, "but maybe not for toffs like you. You maybe they'll just rap on the knuckles and say naughty, naughty. Whatta ya think, Casino? We pull something like that now, they'd ruddy well throw away the key." "Yeah, Goniff, cept we don't pull shit like that!"

Bret Sinclair looked at the gaping jaw of the Judge taking in the fact that his well-secured flat had been thoroughly penetrated by four very annoyed individuals and sighed. Somehow he'd had a feeling he would be the one explaining this fiasco. He opened his mouth to start, but was abruptly pre-empted by a matter-of-fact voice from the sofa, "w'ole things a cock-up from w'at we can tell, Mum. The silly gudgeons let the old bastard run a con on em; they don't seem too 'appy with 'im either, now they've found out. Well, wouldn't be, now would they? Want a drink? The bourbon's past good!"

The redhaired woman let a slow smile come to her face, "is it now? Pour us a bit, loves. You're alright then? No bruises and such?"

The children had popped to their feet and were busy with the decanter. The girl looked back over her shoulder at the three highly uncomfortable men, "we took no harm. Think the two gentlemen have bruises aplenty, though. We didn't know what they were up to, you know, til they had us in the car and started talking, to us, to each other; thought about not going along with it, but decided we'd best see what they were about first. Didn't know for sure early on whether it was US they were after, or just any two likely ones of our looks or age. Either way, seemed best to get as much information as we could."

Sinclair's jaw dropped at that; somehow he hadn't thought of that appalling possible interpretation of their actions. Danny wasn't far behind, and he risked a glance at the newcomers; somehow, the look on the small blond man's face made him highly uncomfortable, some knowledge, something. Their eyes met, and the blond relaxed slightly, possibly seeing the horror in Danny's eyes at the thought.

"Anyway, if it were us or others of the family they were after, no sense letting it draw out, getting away and having them make another try or maybe against one of the others. If it was the other, that had to be dealt with too, before they tried for someone less able to fend for themselves."

She took a sip of the glass she now held once more. "They were as easy on us as could be, mum, went out of their way not to cause damage, and not even getting tempery at the blows we landed. Seems that one's called Daniel, the other one Bret. American, British. Friends they are, if not liking to show it much, snip at each other like others we know."

She grinned at her mother, waggled her left brow, "friends, at the least," getting a snicker from her brother. Bret Sinclair looked totally aghast at the implication, looked over at Danny Wilde who was grinning like a maniac. Sinclair groaned and thought to himself, {"I really should have expected him to find that amusing!"} 

Judge Fulton tried to take back the reins, "well, I suppose you are wanting an explanation. Surely this could have been handled in a more civilized manner. I DO have a doorbell, you know!" That little bit of nonsense got him very odd looks from everyone in the room considering he'd put this into play with a very uncivilized action.

"Yes, well, we aren't particularly civilized, especially where our children are concerned. You have an explanation, I suppose," the now cold-faced woman declared, and the last wasn't really even a question. The Judge pointedly ignored her, turned his face to the tall blond man, "you would be Mr. Craig Garrison, I presume. To my knowledge, you were not involved in the incident I am interested in, but perhaps you can exert some influence in getting my inquiries satisfied. This woman," and he was briskly interrupted by the man he was addressed, "Meghada ru Dragan".

"Yes, yes, as I was saying, I believe this woman was personally responsible for the disappearance of three children during World War II. They were in the safekeeping of Allied Intelligence in London at the time. She was never brought to account for her actions."

Danny and Bret jerked their heads in surprise; somehow, that wasn't anything like what they were expecting, and they risked a look at each other, then at the redhead standing there with a revolver in her hand. The newcomers cast a quick glance at each other, but there was no overt reaction.

The judge pursed his lips and continued, "I doubt you are aware of that; my understanding is that while some of your activities during the war were perhaps questionable, they were more in the line of disagreements with your superiors as to how to handle your men and the missions, certainly nothing like that! I have an interest in finding out just what happened to those children and why she felt they, and possibly their parents, had to be eliminated. My interest, Mr. Garrison, is in justice, particularly justice for the innocents who are caught up in the games of others. That those children disappeared, and she was allowed to go on, live her life in peace, that seems to be the height of injustice." The righteous look on his face was almost a caricature, so full of dignity and piety.

The outrage he was clearly expecting from the blond man failed to arrive on schedule. Somehow the calm "And?" was not quite what he felt was the appropriate response. Next he tried bluster. "I have been told you are an honorable man, Mr. Garrison. Surely you cannot condone . . ."

"Condone what, Judge Fulton? Just what do you think happened to those children?"

A visible wince came to the older man's face, and he admitted, "I tried very hard not to think about it; I was in no position to do anything at the time, and those who were seemed to just sweep it under the rug. She continued to make herself free in London HQ as if it had never happened, just as many of her other actions were seemingly overlooked or accepted."

A snarl from the smaller blond man, and one remarkably similar from the larger man by the French doors. Garrison motioned and the others were silent, though the looks on their faces said plenty, "and you thought this up yourself? No one put you up to it? Why, what's your part in this?"

Fulton sighed, and unbent enough to explain his retirement, his frustration at all those who had escaped true justice, his now having time to go back and try to right some of those wrongs. His invisible cloak of self-approval and self-justification was all but shining now.

Casino spoke up, expressing what Garrison and the others were thinking, "seems to me like ya got yer wig on too tight, judge, cutting off the circulation to yer brain! Ever stop to think ya might not have the whole story? Naw, not you! Ya just sit here in yer fancy house, at that fancy desk, start dreaming over old stories and get yerself all worked up, and start acting like Bat Man, or is it the Masked Avenger? One a those comic book characters out to 'avenge all wrongs and uphold the right'. That gives ya the right to yank kids in off the streets? And you two, grown men, hell, woulda thought you'd have more sense!"

The boy spoke up, "'from w'at we 'eard, they were told our 'poor parents' couldn't look after us proper; that there was some bad ones out to grab us and use us to get 'old of some highly secret information; that they 'ad to get us someplace safe til the judge could bring our parents in, keep us all safe. All noble and 'igh-minded and the like, and sounded to me like they really believed it; M'Lynn says they did, too. 'E flat out lied to them about what 'e was doing. From the sound of it, it wouldn't be the first time. They're not bad sorts, Dad; reminds me of you and the guys some. Not as good at it, acourse; would do them some good to let you take them in 'and, teach them a few things. Might keep them outta trouble, or at least let them pull themselves outta trouble better once they get in."

That brought a sound of amusement from more than one. "Seems they're bored, need a touch of excitement, and these little games 'e plays perk things up a bit. Like what running the business does for all of you. Can't see it myself, not just believing anything the judge tells them when 'e's lied to them more than a few times, but guess that's a downside from 'aving all the money you want and being able to go anywhere and do most anything you like, maybe buy your way outta a lot of the troubles; you forget to think it all through, start forgetting the lessons you shoulda learned. Gonna get em killed one a these days if you ask me."

Danny looked at kids, now intrigued, "you, what's your name, both of you?" His voice was curious, not abrupt, and no one seemed to take offense, certainly not the boy.

"I'm CharlieR, that's my twin sister, M'Lynn. You're not a bad sort, you know, remind me of Da some, chirrippy and all," nodding over at the shorter blond man. "Bigger though, probably 'andier with your fists, but you do need to work on your footwork, maybe learn savate. Think you might be right good at that, could give you an edge. I 'ad to be extra careful not to send you 'ead first into that brick wall back there, crack your skull. Can't underestimate an opponent like that, you know, no matter the size," and Lord Sinclair couldn't refrain from a very dignified snort.

"Yes, Daniel, I have been meaning to speak with you about that."

"I don't know you have much room to talk, Lord Sinclair. Size needn't make you as slow as you seem to be; you need to work on your speed and recovery. And, if you have a glass jaw, which you obviously do, I'd think you need to stop leading with it," came calmly from M'Lynn, and the aristocrat reddened as he rubbed his hand ruefully along his long jaw remembering what he'd thought was a random kick that had momentarily stunned him.

The tension in the room lowered by several degrees. A stream of conversation in some variation of Celtic, which Sinclair recognized but didn't understand, lowered it even more when the redhead sighed, nodded and gave a signal to the others.

Meghada tucked her pistol in her waistband, and went to lean her folded arms against the high back of the sofa. The other men kept their weapons at the ready, and Casino took the liberty of removing the pistols from Bret and Danny, and the one from the drawer of the judge's desk with a casual "just to keep things friendly." There could easily be more weapons scattered about, but they didn't bother to search right now.

Meghada sighed, in weary exasperation, the anger easing a bit now she knew the children were in no real danger. She didn't appreciate the arrogance or the impertinence of Judge Fulton's actions, but it was hardly the same as what it had first appeared to be. "So, I presume you are talking about the Theron children, Tomas, Selene, and Maria. What part did you play at HQ that you got part of the story but not the whole? Well, as much of the whole as anyone there was party to. No, don't poker up at me. I'm willing to talk with you, but only if you talk with me as well."

Fulton stiffly told her, "I was an officer appointed to act as liaison with a division of Special Operations," and Goniff snickered, "now there's a prime example of why it took so ruddy long to win the ruddy war!" and Casino grunted an agreement with the sentiment. Garrison didn't disagree, but adminished him gently, "now, Goniff."

Meghada nodded thoughtfully, "yes, that makes sense - Special Ops, not Special Forces, close enough to hear about the mission, about the children; too remote to know all the details. Well, Kevin always did say that was a danger, them trying to keep the two divisions in the dark about each other's doings." She poured herself another drink, nodding her approval of the quality of the liquor, and perched on the arm of the sofa nearest the girl, "well, judge, here is how it actually happened."

Quite awhile later, a still slightly suspicious, perhaps rather pink and shamefaced Judge Fulton frowned at her, "and you have some proof of this?" getting a casual shrug of her shoulders.

"Oh, certainly, not that I owe you anything of the sort. There were others on the team with me who brought the children out of that Nazi stronghold; all but one are still alive. The idiot 'expert' who had thought to have the children shot rather than risk his hide in getting them free? I believe he is in the House of Lords now, though I suppose he'd perhaps be reluctant to admit his part; it hardly would win him many friends," and Bret Sinclair's brows reached upward.

"I would be most interested in knowing his name, Ms. ru Dragan," and she smiled over at him.

"And I'd even be willing to share that with you, Lord Sinclair. It seems someone should be aware of Lord Clivedon's perhaps overzealous belief in the acceptability of collateral damage, and greatest good for the greatest number, and his even more intense belief in his ability to determine all that regardless of outside advice. And my name is O'Donnell, 'ru Dragan' is a, well, a title, you might say."

She sipped at the bourbon, looking at him thoughtfully. "You aren't very much like your relative, are you? I'm afraid Lord Reginald Sinclair and I had our differences; we were rather well acquainted. In fact, I was one of those instrumental in getting him removed from Cambridge, the decoy, you might say."

Bret looked astonished, and a pleased smile came to his pleasant face, "that was you? When he and those other idiots thought they were the heirs apparent to Alistair Crowley? How utterly delightful! No, Cousin Reginald and I were never much alike. He's not around anymore. Got himself kicked in the head by a horse he was trying to force into a jump; the horse at least had the sense to realize the barrier just wasn't viable. I remember there was some talk of having the horse shot, but our uncle, the Duke wouldn't allow it. Put her into the breeding line; saying that much sense needed to be furthered, not hindered, that he was only disappointed he couldn't breed her back into the family, that Reginald was a prime example that something of the sort was needed."

She nodded, "sounds like him. Plenty of puff and pomp, well-educated, wonderful memory, but not much in the way of real brains, or common sense."

Bret nodded, "yes, that was Cousin Reginald alright," casting a warning look at Danny, who had an uncomfortable quirk to his face.

"But getting back to proof, the Theron's would certainly vouchsafe for my actions. The Doctors Theron, though they've gone by a different name these intervening years, of course, are semi-retired now; we could probably get them on the telephone. Selene and Maria are occupied with their families and are some distance away, but I believe Tomas, Tomy is here in London at university."

She looked over at her children to get a quick nod, "til the break, least that's what he said last visit. Gets his degree this time, then he's done with all that," came from M'Lynn.

CharlieR snickered, "still lives in 'opes Mum will run away with 'im, I think. Fell in love with 'er back then, when 'e was four. Still calls 'er 'my Queenie'; Da claims 'e ain't worried much, but I don't see you leaving 'im alone with 'er, now do we, you OR Dad?" grinning at the small blond man, who plastered a knowing look on his mobile face.

"Well, don't pay to take chances now does it? Your mum's a fine looking woman, a fine cook, a fine shot, 'andy with 'er fists; never tell when some younger fellow might just overwhelm 'er delicate sensibilities and snaffle 'er away," to the accompaniment of various amused looks and laughs and one downright hoot from the husky man they called Casino at the 'delicate sensibilities' of the Dragon.

"Very funny, I'm sure," the woman told him, shaking her head with a reproving look. "It's not you having to keep breaking the news to the poor lad that you and Craig are all I can handle; a younger man would likely just wear me out!" Goniff and Craig exchanged a look at that statement then both broke out in a laugh.

A quick call to the Doctors Theron, now living under a much different name, had the Judge shrinking in his chair, seeing all he'd gotten wrong. Their crisp voices put him right, "those in charge in London thought they might use their possession of our children to 'encourage' us to work for them; we found such tactics no more endearing than when the Nazi's tried the same thing. We informed them of that at the time. Meghada saw our children out of the hands of the Nazi's AND out of the hands of those in London, and back into ours. She and her people provided us with safe haven, new identities; we are and will always be most grateful to her." 

The arrival not an hour later of a slender blue-eyed blond in his mid-twenties, graceful and charming, finished the telling. He entered the room, smiling at those gathered, but went directly to the redhead, to the long-suffering eye-rolling of the others, and kissed her hand, "my Queenie! This is such an unexpected pleasure! I had thought I'd not be seeing you til after graduation!"

He allowed himself to be distracted enough to be introduced, and when he heard the tale was more than inclined to be indignant on her behalf. With a solid frown, he scolded the judge, "that's nonsense, all of it! Because of her, we survived. Survived and had a good home in a safe place with Friends and Family around us!"

Goniff cleared his throat sharply, "yes, and we know you're grateful and all, Tomy lad. 'Ave to say, I'd be grateful if you let go of 'er 'and, though. Don't you know any women your own age? Maybe one who's not already got someone she's claimed? Or in 'Gaida's case, two someone's??"

Tomas just gave a sly grin and protested, "but no one I've met measures up to her, Goniff."

The small Englishman grumbled, and scratched his head, "ei, well, I can see that, but I 'ave to tell you, I'm getting a little tired of looking over my shoulder. Ever since you were four; that's a ruddy long time to stand watch, you know!" and the others laughed.

CharlieR drew everyone's eyes when he spoke up, "well, seems to me you do need to look around a little more, Tomy. Now, I'd say maybe one of our cousins, or our older sister M'Coury, but she's already set on a fella, and you'd be a bit young for 'er anyway, seeing as 'ow she's nineteen. Now, M'Lynn 'ere, she's not spoken for yet, and looks to becoming as fine a cook as Mum is, and nasty as all getout with a knife and a pistol. Maybe the two of you could get together once she's through with 'er studies," sipping on his glass of bourbon with a helpful smile. Tomas looked at him, eyes wide, then looked over at M'Lynn, who was looking back, appraisingly.

"Don't know, CharlieR; Tomy is a sweetie, alright, and there's the right age difference, but maybe he's become too much of a toff with all that schooling. Don't have the patience for toffs, you know." She looked again, then relented, patted the cushion next to her, "Come and sit beside me, Tomy; lets have us a good natter, shall we?" and the young man grinned and walked over, plopping himself on the seat beside the young girl.

"Well, I never thought you'd look my way, M'Lynn; are you telling me I have a chance after all?"

"Didn't say that, just that I'd be willing to take a closer look," she shot back at him archly.

Garrison groaned and Casino just shook his head, "hell, here we go again!" and Goniff just shrugged, "M'Lynn's a picky one, Tomy boy, just like 'er mum; you'll be awhile convincing 'er, imagine at least til she's sixteen or seventeen or so; imagine she'll keep your mind well occupied in the meantime," giving a warning look at the young man.

He sighed, looking at the others, "still, as long as it keeps 'im from trailing after 'Gaida! May not be so bad while I'm still in my prime, but it's bound to get right worrisome sooner or later, you know!"

Meghada O'Donnell, the Ice Queen, the Dragon, laughed softly, walking over to brush his hair back with one hand, "is it now, love? Well, we'll see if I can relieve that bit of worry later tonight, yes?" to get a wide wicked grin and enthusiastic nodding of that flaxen blond head.

Garrison snorted and complained to Goniff, "I notice you don't seem to worry about anyone stealing me away!" and got an even more wicked grin from the small Englishman.

"Now you ain't got some young buck like Tomy trailing along after you, do you now? Anyway, Craig; you know when you've got it made, not just 'Gaida but my own lovely self as well, all at your beck and call. If you 'ave any doubts though, guess we can deal with that later tonight too!" and Garrison gave his own grin and enthusiastic nod, seemingly copying it exactly from the smaller man. Meghada laughed, while the Judge just looked appalled. Casino groaned, "hell, there goes my chances for a good night's sleep! You guys! Can you at least keep the volume down? I gotta be on a plane in the morning!" 

Danny Wilde and Lord Bret Sinclair were sharing a drink in Sinclair's flat, musing over the highly unusual day they'd had.

"You know, kid, I have to say, the Judge is getting a little loopy. This last thing, hell, those people could've shot us and no one really woulda blamed them, ya know? For that matter, any of the guards at the museum coulda done the same. Snatching kids!" He rubbed his shoulder that had gone into that brick wall instead of his head, thanks to the discretion of CharlieR. Sinclair rubbed a thoughtful hand over his still aching jaw, "yes, and think how much trouble we would have been in if those two hadn't taken it easy on us!" getting a typical Danny Wilde grin in return.

"Friends, huh. Kids picked up on that real fast.

"Friends, at the least" mused Sinclair.

"Well, not too surprising, considering. Guess they'd know, from what I saw."

"Yes, that was rather surprising, all around. I wonder if Tomy will pass muster? M'Lynn seems as if she might be a little picky. He might have to prove himself worthy of her."

"Yeah, well, so am I, a little picky I mean, your lordship. How about you come here and prove yourself worthy of me?" came with a twinkle in those blue eyes. 

"Worthy? We'll just see who is or is not worthy," the mock indignant reply came, just before lips met lips, and the conversation ended. Well, at least for then.

**Author's Note:**

> While most of the stories I've written are primarily in the Garrison's Gorillas and Hogan's Heroes sagas, along with some Crossovers with Man/Girl from Uncle, (including the unforgetable Mr. Ecks and Mr. Wye - and I refused to have Mr. Ecks die as the MFU episode implied!) and even a one-shot with the Mercy Thompson crew, this just popped into the stream unbidden. I do adore Danny and Bret, though frequently thought Judge Fulton could have used a good dose of prune juice! Just starting to post, though have a healthy storehouse ready to drop onto the Archive as soon as I edit them. Read if you like, enjoy if you can.


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